Warmth
by The Musical Jedi
Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan share a moment together, reflecting on what it means to be one with the Force. FINE


I hope you will forgive the edits... This has become an experiment for me to learn HTML, and I'm not used to this method of posting.   
  
In other news, the standard disclaimers apply: I make no money from this, only derive my own pleasure from this cheaper form of therapy. The galaxy is Lucas's, and I greatly appreciate the fact he's made this sandbox for me to play in.   
  
~*~*~*~*~ Warmth ~*~*~*~*~   
  
Iarma O'rra was a knight of exceptional standing within the ranks of the Jedi. She had been raised to the title in a class that was well-known throughout the Temple, with names such as Mace Windu, Tahl, and even the rogue himself, Qui-Gon Jinn. The small Twi'lek was known in her own right, however; she had been an exception knight in the realms of undercover work. Iarma could slip in and out of places that other Jedi would even have difficulty with. Her skill in blending in was unsurpassed within the Jedi ranks.   
  
When the Council summoned her for her latest mission, it was assumed that she would work alone, for that was also how the Twi'lek excelled. Unlike others her age, Knight O'rra had yet to take a padawan. If pressed for a reason, she would simply shrug and say that it wasn't time yet, and the Force hadn't spoken to her as to whom she would choose. "I will," the lavender skilled being would say with a small smile, "when an initiate steals my heart away."   
  
The situation on Skyl, a small planet in the Middle Rim, had gotten bloody. The planet's government was attempting to switch from a monarchal form to a more inhabitant friendly socialist set-up. As expected, the friends and favorites of the royal family didn't appreciate their sudden lack of influence, even though the family themselves completely supported the change. The illustrious Ells patriarch, a large, scaled creature, with a blunt nose and quick reflexes, customary to Skylian fauna, was concerned for his daughter and son's safety. After much debate among his family and his advisors, he had sought a Jedi intercessor. Iarma had been chosen for her experience - as well as the concern that the Jedi would be less than welcome by the fighting factions. The sentients of Skyl were nothing if not a proud species who would, as a whole, object to the need for outside help. Iarma had done her best on the planet amidst difficulties. The royal children had been hidden away to the point where they were almost impossible to find. The environment itself presented a problem to the Twi'lek, a creature built for hot, dry spaces; Skyl was mild and damp, almost to the point of having a perpetual fog. The factions eventually located the children's safe house and the presence of the Jedi, and sadly, a few of the more impassioned members against the socialists made an example of the Twi'lek Jedi.   
  
Her body, cleaned and prepared by Skylian custom, was sent back to Coruscant at the request of the Council. Iarma O'rra, Jedi Knight, was laid upon her ceremonial pyre in the huge sanctuary built for the purpose in the Temple. Tall, marblite columns supported the ceiling of the circular room, the pyre in the center, placed on a carved pedestal of the same, grey-veined stone. On top of the pedestal was a carefully constructed pyre of fragrant cedre wood. Iarma was lain on top of the wood, dressed in her finest ceremonial Jedi robes, which were creamy white. Her feet were bare, in the traditional fashion of Twi'lek death ceremony, and her brow was adorned with small lilaical flowers, white against her lavender skin, twined back to encase her lekku. In her small hands was her lightsaber hilt, the soft buttery yellow blade never to be seen again. Iarma's deep grey eyes were closed forever, and the covers to the transparisteel windows which were placed on the ceiling were opened, to let in the moonlight that shone down on Coruscant. The light splashed liquid silver on the off-white stone, shadows mixing within its marble veins.   
  
One Jedi stood off to the side, hidden slightly behind one of the columns. He wore the traditional brown and beige robes of his Order. His sharp features were made sharper by the shadows. He stood, watching the inert form quietly. One of his large hands rested on the column, showing his hesitancy to keep an official vigil over Iarma. Still, he felt he must watch, at least for a while. The large Jedi, known for his tendency to follow his own heart and whims, his own vision of the Force, felt that this was his place, in the silence of death. At least, this was his place this time. Perhaps another would find him on his knees before the pyre.   
  
A much smaller form appeared at the door leading into the chamber. He slipped in, letting a sliver of more golden light in from the Hall of Remembrance, which guarded this room. The small ginger-haired boy pushed the large door back closed behind him, although he wasn't yet strong enough to latch it. His deep green eyes saw much, not missing the larger form and the smaller, unmoving form upon the wood. He wouldn't have been able to say what led him here beyond intuition, a natural accord to the Force which astounded nearly everyone the young boy came into contact with.   
  
He moved slowly toward the larger Jedi until he was close enough to touch him. Then, the small boy wrapped an arm around the leg of the Jedi Knight and buried his face into the soft cloth of the leggings. The Jedi Knight looked down, slightly surprised, although not caught completely off guard.   
  
"Why are you here, Little One," the Knight asked quietly, lifting the small boy and settling him against his hip, in his arms. "You ought to be sleeping." His tone was not unkind - almost loving and concerned, although such words would never be applied by him, and he wouldn't tolerate them if someone else called them that.   
  
The little one leaned his head against the larger man's shoulder. "Pain," he said quietly, "the Temple is sad."   
  
A small, amazed smile crept onto the face of the larger man at the perception of his small burden. "One of the Jedi has passed into the Force, and the Temple mourns for her," he explained, but the little boy shook his head.   
  
"No, not the Jedi. The Temple. The _Force_ is sad..." The little one shifted a little in the arms of the Knight. "It's crying," he said finally, although the Knight knew he had been searching for a better word, a better explanation, of what he felt rolling through the Force.   
  
"Obi-Wan, do you wish to see why it cries?"   
  
He looked at the Knight with large eyes that saw more than they should, and the Knight knew that he was afraid. Initiates were not exposed to death, not until they had to, but something told him that Obi-Wan needed to see. Something tugged at the heart of the Knight, saying that this Little One must learn not to be afraid of death - must learn that sometimes death is a release.   
  
He carried the little one to the pyre to show him Iarma's still form. Obi- Wan at first hid his face, but slowly he peered out. He looked at the Knight, bewildered. "She's.. empty, Knight Jinn," he said finally. "I can't sense her."   
  
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and pressed it against his own cheek. "What do you feel, Little One?"   
  
The small child scrunched up his face, and said "Prickly." The Knight chuckled quietly, and moved his hand to a smooth part of his face. "Warm..." the child said finally, "warm and soft."   
  
"The Force gives us warmth," Qui-Gon replied. He shifted Obi-Wan and moved his hand towards Iarma's face. At first, he shied away, but the Knight gently maneuvered his hand to brush the Twi'lek's still features. "Now what do you feel?"   
  
Obi-Wan stroked her cheek tenderly for a moment before he shivered and pulled away, nestling himself closer to Qui-Gon. "Cold. It's empty."   
  
"Do you know why that is, Little One?"   
  
Held close to Qui-Gon's shoulder, Obi-Wan shook his head. "The warmth is something the Force gives us. You said that she is empty; it's because the Force has taking away her warmth and pulled it into itself. What made here what she is has been taken into the Force. This is only a shell of what she was."   
  
Obi-Wan regarded the body silently, and Qui-Gon could sense that he was considered what he'd been told. "She isn't gone," he said finally, looking up at Qui-Gon. "I can sense her warmth..."   
  
The Knight took a deep breath, amazed by the perception of the small child. Now that he had said something, Qui-Gon could sense Iarma as well, moving closer, almost as if she were caressing both him and Obi-Wan. Then, the feeling drifted away, as though Iarma had moved on, out of their reach.   
  
"The warmth... spoke..." Obi-Wan whispered, burying his hands into the Knight's robe.   
  
"And what did she say?" Qui-Gon gently rocked the small child, sensing that he was beginning to get drowsy.   
  
"'Be not... afraid...'"   
  
The Knight stood with the ginger-haired child in his arms, looking down as the green eyes were slowly hidden by the initiate's eyelids. He waited a few long moments, enjoying the simple weight and the unclouded thoughts of Obi-Wan as he slipped away into sleep.   
  
Then he stirred again, opening the moody green eyes which suddenly seemed to see into Qui-Gon's very heart, past every wound and dream, to the very innermost part of his soul. "'Be not afraid... to follow your heart...'" Then, in a slow blink, those luminous eyes closed, and Obi-Wan curled as closely as he could to the Knight, completely at peace in his deep slumber.   
  
Qui-Gon looked down at the burden in his arms, at a loss for what to make of his words. An overwhelming feeling engulfed his heart, but he pushed it away. Instead, he retreated back to the column were he was before, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms and watching over his friend until morning. 


End file.
